So there I was, standing on the front porch, in bright yellow sweat pants with frogs all over them, having a yelling match with him, the most wanted guy in school, and my little cousin comes up behind me and pantses me. Being a nobody just became a lot harder, considering that his eyes ignore my face and focus on my bare legs, disregarding the fact that it was rude to stare.

Electric Blue

You always hear about how kids shoot up their schools where they were victims of bullies. When Brendan Andrews and Michael Lee came into my school with guns on graduation night, I had no choice but to help them. Because, in reality, they were more lost then anyone I had ever seen. (Status report: On a trip to Inspiration. Hoping to be hit by a meteorite.)

Coffee Shop Confessions

A collection of short stories based off my own experiences. If life isn't a spectator sport, then I don't know what sport I'm watching.

The Gentle Stalker

Closet starer and stalker, I may have been, but that didn't mean I was comfortable with coming out! (oneshot)

Laid to Rest

His seemed like a relatively common case. He needed answers so he would come here. But like the rest of them, he was misinformed. There were no answers here, just the silence. (oneshot)

Poetry

The Forgetting Smoke

Perhaps our greatest fears, of death, of loss, are all tied into a general theme. Being forgotten.

A Conversation with Eyes

Just one of those random weird things that pop out now and then.

Tides

A goodbye.

Cotton Candy

Describing the sky.

In the Process of Being Made Stories

The bolts of inspiration are like stray cats... They come when they come and they don't when the don't.

So, this started out as a one-shot, but I keep having these crazy ideas for it. So, who knows how long it will turn out. Please read and review; I adore your criticism. Now complete, but I have an idea for a sequel.

Various poems about life, love, and other things. Started when I was just stretching my feelers out into poetry. So it has sort of become a dumping spot of sorts for my poems that don't exactly make the mark. I think.

The first time she met him, she wondered if it was possible to die of embarrassment. The second time, shame quickly turned into amusement. After that, what was left to worry about? Oh, right. Figuring out what the heck he wanted. [Fin.]

[COMPLETE] He was the writer, the musician, the skater, the loner. We were off to college but then one little problem stands in the way...he gets me pregnant. Preview: 'So, you lied to him? ' Kristy asked softly. Yes, I did. I lied.

She's a hopeless romantic that is terrified of falling in love. Quirky? You have no idea... He's misunderstood purposely so and has a past. A dark one. So...what happens when their small town matchmaker decides they're destined for each other?

STORY REMOVED. I wanted him to look at me. I wanted him to sing to me. But no, this song was dedicated to a girl who he had never met and would probably never know. Oh God. I wanted to cry for him. Oneshot!

So there I was, standing on the front porch, in bright yellow sweat pants with frogs all over them, having a yelling match with him, the most wanted guy in school, and my little cousin comes up behind me and pantses me.

His eyes were a startling electric blue. Intense, maybe in another world, they could’ve made my face red and my heart beat fast. Maybe if they weren’t so full of pain. Maybe if they didn’t belong to the boy holding a gun to my face.